Sweet Dandelion

He doesn’t even realize it belongs to him.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Lachlan rubs his thumb absentmindedly in circles around my calf where my legs are draped across his lap. He looks sinfully sexy with a book clasped in his hands, and his glasses perched on his nose. He gave me a book to read too, since the power is still out, but all I want is to stare at him in the glow of the candlelight. I want to commit the sharp slash of his jawline, the slope of his nose, and angle of his brow to my memory. I might never have this opportunity again to spend this much time alone with him without the worry or threat of everything that exists against us outside these walls.

“I can feel you staring at me.”

I giggle, leaning the side of my head against the couch. “I can’t help it.”

He slowly hinges his gaze from the words on the page to me. “I promise that book is as good as others I’ve lent you.”

I bite my lip slightly, trying to hide my growing smile. “I’m sure, but I’d rather look at you.”

“Why?” He sounds truly curious about my answer.

I hesitate, not wanting to sound creepy. “Because, right now, I can look at you however I want, and I don’t have to worry about someone seeing something they shouldn’t in my eyes.” His eyes darken slightly to a stormy blue. “Like the other day, when I passed you in the hall, all I wanted to do was look at you but I was too scared my friends might notice that I don’t look at you like the school counselor.”

He swallows thickly. “What do you look at me like, Dani?”

“Like you’re mine.”

His breath catches just the slightest,

the small sound amplified by the completely silent apartment. He tosses the book aside and I yelp when I find myself suddenly pinned to the couch with his big body over mine. My hips wiggle of their own accord, and he uses his own body to prevent me from moving any further. His hands are clasped on my wrists, holding them above my body. I feel vulnerable like this, but I have no desire to get away.

“Why do you have to say stuff like that?”

“Like what?” My voice cracks as I stare at him. He’s so close I can count every eyelash and freckle dusted across his nose if I want.

“Stuff that makes it feel so fucking impossible to be a good guy.”

If I had use of my hands I would touch his stubbled jaw. “You are a good guy.”

He shakes his head. “No, Dani, I’m not. A good guy wouldn’t be locked in his apartment with his student. A good guy wouldn’t have kissed her. And a good guy definitely wouldn’t be in the fucking position we’re in right now.” His breath caresses my lips with every word. “A good guy, definitely wouldn’t be thinking the things I am right now.”

It takes me a moment to find my voice. “What are you thinking?”

His eyes flash and his jaw snaps together like he’s trying to jail the words in his throat. He shakes his head back and forth, his eyes falling closed.

“Tell me,” I plead, wiggling my fingers and testing his hold.

When his eyes pop open it’s like the blue is on fire. “I want to know how you taste.” I open my mouth to protest that we’ve kissed, but he shakes his head. “Not your mouth, sweetheart.” My heart stutters at the endearment. “I want to know how you sound, how you feel, I want to know what brings you the most pleasure. That’s not what a good guy thinks about his student.”

I have no words. They’re stuck inside me, all the letters floating and jumbled. I’m unable to grab any of them and form them into sentences.

“Pretend I’m not your student.”

“But you are.”

“No,” I bite out. “I’m Dani. I’m just Dani.”

He brushes his nose against mine, his lips close to mine but still so far away. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

He takes me by surprise when he finally kisses me. His lips are warm on mine. He still doesn’t release my hands, leaving him entirely in control. He kisses me the way he wants, slow, taking his time, stealing another little piece of me.

His lips were made for mine to kiss. His hands for mine to hold.

Be mine, my lips speak to his with movement, not a sound passed between.